


The Traveler

by b3anpole



Category: Celtic Mythology, Native American/First Nations Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b3anpole/pseuds/b3anpole





	The Traveler

Most people avoid the wilderness these days, either from fear or conditioning, very few are brave enough to face the wilds and the sinister shadows of foliage and boulders. There are few who have chosen these places for solitude or exodus. They adapt to the wild around them, learn to survive, and learn to live beside them in balance like the darkness and the light.  
The creatures thrive after nightfall. The shadows are not safe, there is always something lurking just out of view. People have learned to avoid the night. Stay inside, stay safe. People here have had to learn lots of things. Plants that will ward off bad energies and heal the effects of them, if one has such misfortune. Survival is the only instinct here.  
The mountains rise to thousand foot peaks in long succession for hundreds of miles, rocky and scraggly peaks line the horizon and the sunsets orange and bright. Except when storms get stuck around the peaks. Storms are perilous and last for days and days. The rain pummels the trees and despite the solid cover, the forest floor is not spared from its share of water. If you didn't plan properly one might be stranded.  
Stranded was an accurate way to describe the Traveler. The shrouded figure rushes in between the trees careful of their path, fading in and out of the darkness provided by the lush forest. The rain beats down hard on the person's back, covered by a long flowing cloak. The person notices an old stone wall as it emerges from the undergrowth. The Traveler follows the wall as it curves and makes its way over the hill’s crest.  
Nestled behind the shoulder of the hill stands a decaying stone structure. Wood slats line the roof and the chimney’s bricks are crumbling. There is no light in the window or smoke from the chimney. It does not seem that anyone has been there in a very long time. The Traveler is wary, they know better than to judge things in this area too quickly but desperation takes over and the Traveler walks quietly up to the rotting door. The hinges have rusted through and they squeal loudly when the Traveler pulls on the door handle.  
The Traveler squints into the darkness from under their hood, wary of the shadows within. The cottage contains very few things: a couple of wooden cabinets that once were painted green but now are almost entirely peeled off, a rusty metal basin inset into the counter, and an old rocking chair engraved with flowers. The fireplace was boarded up a while ago but either people or things have ripped most of the slats out and the mantel is bare except for a candelabra that is far too lavish for a place like this. An old bed frame without a mattress was shoved into the far corner away from any windows.  
As the Traveler ventures past the doorway, they are caught in iridescent strands of cobweb. Looking closer they can tell that the webs cover every surface within the building. Slightly disgusted the Traveler waves away a path and ventures further into the room. They open the cabinets carefully but the hinges pull out of the rotting wood easily. The shelves are bare and are coated by a thick layer of dust. This dust layer covers every surface, the only places disturbed are because of animals like the spiders who have made their home here.  
The Traveler seems calmer, knowing that they are alone here. They are sure there hasn’t been anyone inside this place in a long period of time. It was most likely abandoned once its inhabitants realized the woods here belonged to angry and dangerous beings and not humans. The Traveler sighs and sinks into the rocking chair, exhaustion taking over. They make sure to face the door. Underneath their cloak, their hand finds the hilt of a dagger. Despite the groaning of the trees and the sound of rain beating against the roof, the Traveler nods their head forward and drifts into a shallow slumber.  
Something is banging on the door. The Traveler is startled awake by a repeated pounding from outside the door. They rise to their feet immediately, dagger drawn and alert as they creep towards the window to try to see whatever is trying to get inside. It is still dark outside and the rain has not ceased making it difficult to identify the commotion outside. The roof has leaked and there’s a shallow skim of water on the floor and windowsill. The hem of the Traveler's cloak drags through the puddles as they move towards the door, the incessant banging continuing until they hear a distinctly human scream from outside.  
This deeply shocks the Traveler. There shouldn’t be humans this deep into the wild. Especially not ones who cannot fend for themselves. Then suddenly there's a splintering crash and a hammer breaks through the door. There’s another slam as a body is shoved against the door. The hinges finally give out and a person falls backwards into the hard concrete floor taking the door with them.  
The human quickly scrambles to their feet and the Traveler steps back into a defensive position but the human doesn't notice them. Instead, they angrily wield a battle hammer engraved with some sort of writing and hurl themselves back into the night. The Traveler moves to follow them and finally sees what the human is fighting. A decaying face swathed in tattered cloth and swirls of acrid smoke rises above the Traveler and the human. The creature’s body is shrouded by a darkness that seems to leak out of the monster. The human glances back and forth anxiously blindly like they can’t see the giant creature about to attack them. A realization dawns on the Traveler the same moment the monster lunges out of the sky towards the human.  
The Traveler leaps forward and pushes the human hard out of the creature's path. It roars as it reorients itself. The Traveler barely has time to regain their footing before the creature attacks again. The Traveler meets the beast with their dagger and stabs into the mass of smog and swirling fabric. The knife sinks into the monster and the Traveler drags the blade until the spirit wails.  
The human has regained their bearings and sees the cloaked figure of the Traveler attacking the darkness with a dagger. But even though the human can't see the monster, that doesn’t mean they can’t fight it. They follow the sound of the beasts scream and attack with their hammer, swinging until the weapon meets something solid.  
The creature reels and starts to retreat into the trees but stops suddenly as the Traveler begins to chant in an ancient language. The smog swirls violently and it wails again trying to fight the Traveler's power but instead tendrils of darkness wrap around the beast and it is swallowed by darkness, its scream echoing into the night.  
The human sinks to the ground and sighs, looking out into the forest. The Traveler takes in the human that managed to fight a monster they couldn’t even see. She has short orange curls and lots of freckles. She is wearing a jacket that is far too large so that it almost swallows her. Her hand is resting on the hammer she fought with. The Traveler finally realizes the engraving is a Celtic rune. Around her neck, there is a turquoise pendant with another rune carved into it. She looks like she's thinking about something hard.  
Finally, she looks up at the Traveler, “you could see them? What are you?” The girl doesn’t look scared which surprises the Traveler.  
“I’m the Traveler.” They say in a quiet, gravelly voice.  
“That doesn’t explain much for me.” The girl says, annoyed. “My name is Isla, I’m just human but I grew up in these mountains. I know about what goes on here.” She smirks and picks the hammer back up. “So? Are you human?”  
The Traveler pauses at this. “I was once.” They say finally. “I work with the spirits, always have. After a while, I may have gained some similarities with them.”  
Isla scrunches up her eyebrows “My ma calls people who talk with the creatures druids.”  
“Ah yes, that is what the Celts call us. Lots of people call me different names, I've learned that they all usually mean the same thing.”  
Isla just shrugs, “Works for me.” She stands up and looks up at the trees and lets the rain fall on her face for a few seconds. Then she walks up to the doorway and turns to the Traveler, “Sorry about your door, by the way, I couldn’t really see what I was fighting.”  
The Traveler laughs for the first time, it’s tinny and low and Isla thinks that it suits them. “Don’t worry,” they say. “It’s not my door, I was just waiting out the storm and found it. Don't think anyone's been here for a long time.”  
“Great because I wasn’t planning on replacing it,” Isla says as she steps inside the cottage and the Traveler follows slowly. It takes a minute for Islas's eyes to adjust and she walks into the middle of the only room of the house accidentally walking face first into an elaborate cobweb. She squeals and wipes her face frantically, “Gross.”  
She scans the room, taking in the bare furnishings and the puddles on the floor. Isla walks up to the mantel and picks up the candelabra to inspect it. Her fingers run over the cold brass and notice something scratched into the base. She holds it out for the Traveler to see as she rummages in one of the many pockets in her jacket. Finally, she pulls out an old leather book with a ribbon wrapped around it. She opens it and scans it, flipping through pages with long paragraphs of writing in multiple languages and drawings of animals and spirits. She stops on a page of different runes trying to find a match.  
The Traveler plucks the candelabra from Isla’s hand, “It’s for the protection of memories. That creature was a malevolent spirit of the dead. They take people and erase all memory of them.” Isla can’t see the Traveler's face seeing as their hood covers everything but she can tell they are speaking from experience.  
“Of course you can read it, I should have expected that.” Says Isla as she rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of the bare bed frame. “It’s kinda creepy that this is all that is left of whoever lived here.”  
“At least they were able to leave something behind,” says the Traveler quietly. Their cloak trails on the ground as they return to the rocking chair and sink into it. They seem tired. “We’ll wait out the storm here, I believe it will move on by the morning.”  
Isla just nods and goes to curl up in the back corner with her knees to her chest and her giant coat wrapped around her body. Her hand finds the turquoise pendant around her neck and she drifts off to sleep while rubbing the engraving on the back of the stone.  
The Traveller watches Isla as her breathing slows and she falls asleep. Humans look so weak and vulnerable when they are sleeping. The Traveler feels almost protective over her and so they grip their dagger a little tighter and watch the girl as their eyes grow heavy and eventually the Traveler also sleeps.  
Isla wakes up to birds chirping and the sun shining through the window. She unfurls herself from her sleeping position and stretches, her joints making little popping noises. She looks up to see the Traveler already awake and leaning against the counter. They duck their head pretending that they weren’t watching the girl. “The storm broke.” Is all they say.  
“I guess you were right.” Isla admits, “you didn’t use your druid powers to do that, did you?”  
“No. Just a hunch.”  
“Whatever you say.”  
Then Isla smiles and pulls herself to her feet. She walks across the room and out the door into the clearing. The sun peeks out from behind the last few clouds left from the storm and the air smells like damp dirt. The woods are a lot less threatening during the day when birds land on the branches and squirrels scurry through the undergrowth. This is the version of the wild that she loves. It feels like home.  
The Traveler stands silently in the doorway, as reserved and pensive as usual. They wait for Isla to turn back around until they finally say, “I need to be moving on now.”  
Isla nods and walks to meet the Traveler. She steps toward them and looks up past their hood trying to see their face. The Traveler looks down at her and their hood falls back just a little bit. Isla gets a glimpse of grey charred skin and piercing green eyes before the Traveler steps away.  
“Thank you, for saving my life I mean,” Isla says smiling.  
“Anytime.” And with that, the Traveler turns and walks into the wild, black cloak flowing in an early morning breeze.

THE END


End file.
